


Tequila Fuelled Sex on a Long Island Beach

by WearingWellies



Series: Prompt Challenges [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But there is tequila, Curly Fries, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions a broken leg, Nothing to do with Long Island, Plus there's no outdoor sex, Quidditch, Summer Camp, cocktails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7657150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WearingWellies/pseuds/WearingWellies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cocktails with his teammates at the end of an awful day allows Harry to loosen up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tequila Fuelled Sex on a Long Island Beach

**Author's Note:**

> This time the prompt was "cocktail". Not only am I 4.5x over the word limit we set (there seems to be a pattern emerging), but I'm also 6 months behind.
> 
> Not beta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: JK Rowling’s, not mine *sigh*

Harry emerged from the shower, hair damp and with a towel around his waist.  He looked up, startled, when he heard someone speak.

“Oh, Potter.  There’s no need to look so glum.” Draco Malfoy was reclined on the bed, all long elegant limbs, with his head pillowed in his hands.  A satisfied smirk graced his face.  “After all, the best team _did_ win.” 

Harry glared at Draco, yanking open drawers with more force than necessary to retrieve his clothes.  “I’m not in the mood, _Malfoy_.” Harry practically growled, dropping his towel to pull on his boxer-briefs, ignoring his audience.  Draco wolf whistled, earning himself another glare.  “Seriously.  Not.  In.  The.  Mood.” Harry snapped, pulling on a well-worn pair of jeans.  Draco sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed as Harry finished dressing, tugging a long-sleeved maroon Henley over his head. 

Draco stood, approaching Harry and smoothing some wrinkles from Harry’s shirt, copping a surreptitious feel of his pecs in the process.  “Come for a drink.  The rest of the team are going.  Celebrate the end of the season.” 

Harry raised his eyebrow sceptically. 

Draco mirrored Harry, however raising his eyebrow with a smile.  “I know _you’ve_ not got a lot to celebrate, what with your team _losing_ and everything, so maybe come out and drown your sorrows.”  Harry’s eyes narrowed at the comment and Draco stepped back.  “Come on.  You might even enjoy yourself.” Draco winked as he turned towards the door. 

Shaking his head, Harry groaned, “I hate you.”

*

Harry was surprised to follow Draco through the door of a bar in Muggle Poole.  It was colourfully decorated and had soft but lively Latin American music playing.  He climbed the stairs to the mezzanine floor behind Draco – resolutely _not_ checking out the blonde Seeker’s admittedly rather lovely backside.  He immediately spotted the table where the rest of his Quidditch teammates were sat; after all, a group of sixteen loud and physically fit people is hard to miss.  When the team spotted Draco and Harry, a cheer rang out.

“So the winning and losing coaches of the Under-Elevens decided to finally grace us with their presence!” Called out Matilda, one of the Keepers on the team.  Draco grinned and Harry frowned as he took one of the two remaining seats at the table. 

Oliver gave Harry a conciliatory pat on the back.  “Cheer up, it’s not like losing is the end of the world.”  A snicker ran through the group and Harry was handed a glass of something pinky-orange poured from one of the pitchers on the table.

Harry groaned, retorting, “I’m not upset because my team lost.  I’m upset because Tyler fell off his broom trying to copy the way I fly and broke his leg!”  He sat his glass back on the table, slumping back in his chair.  Of course, Harry wasn’t the only coach to lose; half of the other players who worked as coaches at the camp had also suffered the same fate, and he resented the idea that he was a sore loser. 

Earlier that day, on the last day of the Youth Camp run during the summer by Puddlemere United, each age group had played their final matches.  One of the children on Harry’s team had taken a rather spectacular tumble during the match and broken his leg, and Harry was distraught it had happened under his tutelage.  To make matters worse, it had happened just moments before their opposing team’s Seeker had caught the Snitch, winning them, and therefore Draco as team coach, the match.

Dylan, a Chaser, reappeared at the table with a tray a shots and began passing them out.  “Accidents happen, Harry.  It could have happened to any one of us.”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have been distracted by the other team’s Seeker having seen the Snitch.  If I’d been watching Tyler, I could have cast a Cushioning Charm sooner and he wouldn’t have broken his leg.” Harry sat forward and picked up his earlier-abandoned drink, taking a precautionary sip of the peach-flavoured cocktail before finishing half of his glass in a few swallows.  

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes so hard Harry thought he must’ve been able to see his brain.  The only person he’d ever seen roll their eyes harder was Mad-Eye Moody.  “Oh don’t be ridiculous.  We’re not Muggles; his leg is fine and fully healed.”

“But he was in so much pain.” Harry asserted, finishing his drink.

“For about 5 minutes!  He had Saint Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Vaquisher of Evil Wizards, and Poster Boy of Puddlemere United, _personally_ carry him to the infirmary.  He’s going to think this was the best day of his life!” Exclaimed Draco, pouring himself another glass of brown cocktail from one of the other pitchers on the table. 

“Aye,” Oliver chipped in.  “Injuries are just part of playing Quidditch.  We’ve all broken bones.  It’s no big deal.”

Harry sighed, then startled slightly when Draco looped an arm around his shoulders.  “Stop punishing yourself, Harry.  Yes, it happened, but he’s fine.  Now, desist with the wallowing; you’re holding up team shots.”  Draco winked, pulling back and accepting a shot glass from Dylan.

A chorus of, “Shots!  Shots! Shots!”, with accompanying table drumming, came from the rest of the team.  Harry smiled in spite of himself and reached for the shot glass in front of him.  The rest of the team followed suit, and after banging the glasses once on the table, the alcohol burned a simultaneous path down eighteen throats.  There were mutterings of distaste and disgust but Harry didn’t understand the fuss; tequila wasn’t _that_ bad. 

*

The shots and cocktails kept flowing – Harry was rather fond of the peachy Sex on the Beach (finding out the name in his slightly intoxicated state caused him to giggle, not that he’d admit it), whereas Draco was more partial to the tangy Long Island Iced Tea – and the shots kept coming.  At some point during the evening, the team had had the utterly _fantastic_ idea of ordering what looked like their combined bodyweight in curly fries.  As it got later, the atmosphere in the bar changed from a relaxed, chill vibe, to a slightly more upbeat mood that would lend itself to dancing.  Being the fairly outgoing, and also slightly tipsy, bunch that they were, it didn’t take long for the team to be up and doing just that.

Normally, Harry avoided anything that might otherwise draw attention to himself, but alcohol and peer pressure were fantastic things, and he found himself swept along with his team.  He danced with Matilda for a song, danced far too close with Oliver for another song, danced as a group, danced by himself, then danced with whoever it was that had slipped their arms around his waist.  Lips brushed his neck and Harry turned, smiling lopsidedly as he was met with soft grey eyes.  “Hey, you.”

“You look like you’re feeling a bit better.” Draco commented, sliding his hands into the back pockets of Harry’s jeans and pulling the other man closer. 

Harry hummed, nodding slightly as he allowed himself to be drawn in, looping his arms around Draco’s neck.  “I am.  It happened and I can’t change that, and that’s okay.  I need to put my behind in the past.”

Snorting in amusement, Draco squeezed the tight muscles under his palms.  “I don’t know; I quite like your behind where it is.”  He trailed his nose along Harry’s cheek, touching his lips to Harry’s temple as they moved together.  Harry threaded the fingers of one hand through the shorter hair at the back of Draco’s head, using it to tug his head round gently, before crushing their lips together in a less than elegant manner.  Despite the clumsy beginnings and the very public setting, the kiss grew heated.  It wasn’t until their teammates started whistling and catcalling that the pair broke apart.

“Couldn’t keep away from each other, eh?” Walter, one of the Beaters, quipped, winking at them as he danced with one of the other patrons of the bar.  Harry’s cheeks coloured lightly and Draco glared, earning them a laugh. 

Harry’s nails scratched over Draco’s scalp as he suggested, “Shall we get out of here?”

“Just what are you suggesting, Potter?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.  In lieu of answering, Harry pecked a kiss to Draco’s lips, then stepped back, grasping Draco’s hand and pulling him in the direction of the stairs.  They managed to leave without being spotted by their teammates, avoiding what would certainly have been another chorus of catcalls. 

*

Harry kicked the door shut with a bit more force than intended, but his hands were occupied trying to undo the buttons on the front of Draco’s shirt.  Finally he was able to push it from Draco’s strong, pale shoulders, his hands almost reverently making a path down over Draco’s chest then fanning his fingers out over his ribs.  “Gorgeous.” He breathed, watching Draco’s nipples tighten as his thumbs grazed over them. 

Draco’s cheeks coloured at the attention Harry paid him and supressed a shiver at the desire in Harry’s eyes.  Draco pulled at Harry’s Henley, humming contentedly when Harry pulled it over his head and dropped it to the floor.  “I’ve been wanting that to happen all night.”

“You’ve wanted me to take my top off?” Harry chuckled.

Draco nodded, running his fingertips over Harry’s collarbones.  “Your collarbones are teases.  Your Henley kept flashing hints of them at me and I wanted to lean over and bite them.”  Harry’s eyebrows rose at the admission, then he smiled before surging forward to kiss the other man. 

Clothes were shed as they crossed the room.  Draco pressed Harry into the mattress, kissing open-mouthed along his jaw and down the corded muscle of his neck.  Harry inhaled sharply as Draco’s teeth closed over his left clavicle, the bone unyielding under soft skin.  Draco laved the indented flesh with his tongue, soothing the sting before surging upwards again to kiss Harry again. 

Harry palmed at Draco’s flexing arse, urging their bodies together, their movements becoming more frenzied.  Delicious friction formed between their thrusting bodies, and Harry wrapped his right leg around Draco’s thigh, running his calf along the lean muscle as they kissed deeply.  Precome began to slick the way as their cocks rubbed against each other between the crush of their bodies.  Harry lipped along the angle of Draco’s jaw, rolling his hips to change the angle as his hands roamed up from Draco’s arse to his shoulders, stroking along his sides.  He let out a low moan, nipping at Draco’s neck. 

Draco pushed up, supporting his weight on one arm as he took both his and Harry’s cocks in hand, stroking them both as they thrust together.  Harry hooked his hand around the back of Draco’s neck, pulling him closer again, almost smashing their mouths together.  Another roll of his hips had Harry tensing, arching his neck backwards as his orgasm rushed through him, his balls drawing up as he shot over his own abdomen and Draco’s hand, his moans muffled by their kiss.  Draco’s hand stilled, fingers spreading out over the line of Harry’s iliac furrow as Harry’s breathing slowed.  After a few seconds, Harry pulled away and nudged Draco over onto his back, laying along his right side with a leg thrown over Draco’s.  Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s cock, lazily stroking it as they kissed again.  He rolled the tip of Draco’s foreskin between his thumb and finger at the top of the upstroke, before sliding it back down, exposing the fleshy head.  Increasing his speed gradually, Harry’s hand squeezed and twisted over Draco’s cock; Draco’s breathing increased, thrusting shallowly up into Harry’s hand, their kisses becoming sloppier.   His hips stuttered as he came, Harry squeezing him gently through it, milking the last of his orgasm from him before he had to push Harry’s hand away.  Harry nudged his nose against Draco’s before settling himself with his head against Draco’s shoulder, and Draco reached for his wand and spelled them clean before stroking his hand along Harry’s side. 

A hum rumbled through Harry’s body as their heart rates slowed, then he pressed a kiss to Draco’s sternum.  “I love you.”  He murmured, stifling a yawn as he randomly traced his fingers over Draco’s upper arm. 

Draco snorted, turning his head so his nose buried into Harry’s hair.  “You get sappy when you’ve been drinking.”  Harry let out a bark of laughter then bit Draco’s pec, causing him to let out an indignant cry.  After a second of silence, Draco added, “We should go dancing more often.”

Harry shifted to look up at Draco with a questioning, “Hmm?”.

“I love watching you dance; it reminds me how lucky I am.” Draco smiled softly, the fingers of his left hand threaded with those of Harry’s right, his eyes lingering on the band of titanium on his ring finger and smiled a little wider knowing Harry was wearing its twin. 

Harry chuckled.  “Now who’s being sappy?”

A blush gently coloured Draco’s cheekbones as he retorted lamely, “Shut up.” 


End file.
